


Cough Up the Candy

by romanitas



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Halloween
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-28 01:41:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8425834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanitas/pseuds/romanitas
Summary: As far as Bellamy is concerned, Halloween is the worst time to get sick. But Clarke might convince him otherwise.





	

**Author's Note:**

> from the prompt: "i’m sick on halloween but told you to go have fun at the party anyway but instead you surprised me with a blanket fort, tons of candy and all my favourite scary movies"

Bellamy has always been a fan of Halloween. When he was a kid, it meant he got to dress up like all his favorite heroes. When Octavia was old enough, he got to use her as an excuse to keep trick or treating after it stopped being cool for him. After it stopped being cool for Octavia, there were always Halloween parties to hit up, so Bellamy never outgrew it like some people did. When he moved in with Miller, they started horror movie nights, because Miller likes the dramatics and Bellamy likes the spooky – plus it got them out of hosting the friends night costume party, since they’d already had people over for a movie night.

He likes to decorate, from the earliest days of handmade ghosts with Octavia when they were kids to the blinking pumpkin lights he hung in the doorway to piss off Murphy when they were roommates. His current apartment still has some homemade ghosts, but Clarke helped him out this year so they look way better than they ever have; he really should have had more artist friends growing up. She came over the other night to carve some pumpkins too, so even though he doesn’t have a stoop, they at least get to sit in the window sill.

This year’s Halloween party is at his sister’s house, because she and Lincoln just moved in together so there’s less junk piled up yet and more space for everyone. Bellamy’s been quietly looking forward to it: privately planning his costume, publicly teasing Octavia about how everything is going to go wrong just because she keeps talking about wanting it to go perfect. He is absolutely _not_ planning to get sick, but he falls ill three days before Halloween. He works security in the local art museum and has spent the last two months in the children’s section, so really, he’s not surprised to finally catch something, but he is pissed at the timing.

“If you start puking, I’m giving you a bucket and bailing,” is all the comfort Miller offers, which is his way of saying he cares. Bellamy knows it’s all talk, but he still flips him off and then coughs all over his hand. They’re good roommates deep down.

Clarke frowns, pressing the back of her hand to his forehead. She doesn’t actually live with them, but she might as well for all the time she spends over. She even keeps a spare toothbrush in the bathroom, and Bellamy is pretty sure the clothes she ‘accidentally’ forgets are not really accidents. But it’s been that way for a while, starting when she hated her Junior Year roommate and needed a place to crash sometimes to now where she just comes over because she likes to. Once, she even banned Murphy from returning to the old apartment for two days despite not even living there. “You’re not _burning_ , but you are warm. You should take tomorrow off work.”

Bellamy groans and rolls over, burying his face into the pillow. “We all know how much you hate taking time off,” Clarke starts, using her ‘I went to med school for a year and therefore you don’t get to argue with me’ voice, “But you’re not gonna get better if you don’t get away from the germs.”

He does as she asked, which turns out to be a good idea, because the next day he feels even worse and barely moves from the couch all day, drowning out his sorrows in a marathon of the Halloweentown movies (sans the fourth one, which as far he’s concerned, doesn’t even exist). Clarke comes by after work with several cans of soup, and Miller does the same, so at least they’re not in any danger of running low on soup over the next month or so.

“This better be gone by tomorrow,” he grumbles, feet stretched out over Clarke’s lap and under his Nightmare Before Christmas throw blanket, originally bought as a gag gift, but it’s soft and comfortable and Bellamy likes it. He uses it all year round, mostly to spite everyone who says he shouldn’t.

She pats his leg. “Just keep drinking a lot of water. But you may need to actually go to a doctor.”

“Don’t even talk like that,” he huffs. The Blakes together are notoriously resistant to visiting the doctor thanks to overwhelmingly shitty experiences with the health care system and a working mother who rarely had any insurance.

But it isn’t gone tomorrow. He doesn’t feel _worse_ , but he’s certainly not better, and when he wakes up on Halloween with his throat still on fire and his nose still a faucet, he thinks the Great Pumpkin might be pissed at him this year. He can’t remember ever missing a Halloween party before, but there’s no way he’s getting out of the house like this when all he wants to do is either nap or whine about how tired he is as he moves between sleeping on the couch and sleeping in his bed. He doesn’t remember the last time he’s slept so much – his entire body feels like it’s made of lethargy.

Miller boils him up a can of soup and sets in on the table before awkwardly telling him, “Sucks man,” and leaving to pick up his boyfriend. He’s dressed like Han Solo this year, because he’s just as much a nerd as everyone else and someone irritated him with a racist remark about Star Wars.

Clarke swings by as he’s drifting in and out of sleep, and she frowns at him while shoving a thermometer in his mouth. “Why aren’t you at the party?” he mumbles out.

“I don’t have my costume on yet.”

“So put it on and go. I need to live vicariously through you.”

She smiles at him and brushes the hair from his eyes. It’s not entirely an unusual gesture, because Clarke tends to be pretty tactile with him, but it is surprisingly soft, intimate enough that he closes his eyes – or maybe he’s just tired. He doesn’t want to think about it right now.

“What, text you live updates? You can’t really want it to go poorly.”

“I need to know what Raven’s costume is. How can I not get to witness this firsthand? This is a tragedy, Clarke.”

Raven’s costumes always outshine everyone else’s, and she always surprises them with what it is. Last year she was Iron Man and played coy about the exact magnitude of functionality.

“I’m sure every single person is going to text you a picture of it.”

“Yeah, but your commentary’s always the best. You have to beat everyone to it.”

Clarke laughs and rolls her eyes, patting his head as he yawns. “Seriously, Clarke,” he mumbles, feeling himself dozing off. “Get going. I’ll see you when you get home.” He falls asleep not even realizing what he’s said, but somehow it makes sense anyway.

The next time he blinks himself awake, it takes him a few seconds to get over feeling disoriented, though not strictly out of sickness. The room is significantly more enclosed, and he flails around to sit up, but he’s tangled in the blanket already so he just bumps into the back of the couch and lets out a round of coughing.

When Bellamy finally sits up and gets his arms free, he squints, because the room is significantly darker too. It takes him a second, but he realizes why – there are walls of fabric hanging up around the couch like a tent, blocking off everything but the TV. It doesn’t make any sense, because this is a complicated blanket fort, and there’s no way he could have sleep built something this impressive.

There are two bowls of candy on the table alongside a fresh cup of tea, and Bellamy disentangles from the blanket because he needs to know who the hell broke into his house. Just as he tries to pull himself up off the couch, Clarke slips in from what he presumes is the door flap. She freezes like she’s been caught with her hand in the cookie jar, even though her arms are full of DVDs.

“Clarke?” He doesn’t think he could sound more confused if he tried.

She’s not wearing a costume, just an old Halloween shirt under a hoodie and some sweatpants, but she finally smiles, ducking her head a little nervously. “You were complaining about missing Hocus Pocus every time it was on TV, so I rented it. I’ve got Sleepy Hollow too, and I figure we can hold up some of the ghosts we made over Johnny Depp and just pretend Christina Ricci is the star.”

He’s still looking at her with utter confusion, but she makes her way over and sits on the opposite end of the couch. “I got the Others too. I’ve never actually seen it, which is a surprise, and I still don’t know the twist despite how much you rave about it.”

She’s rambling, and normally he’d take the time to find it adorable, but she’s supposed to be at Octavia’s. “You’re supposed to be at the party,” is what he says, because his filter is even less existent when his brain is this fuzzy.

She reaches for one of the KitKats and shoves it in her mouth, probably to avoid talking right away, which works out nicely for him because he finds himself needing to burrow again under the blankets too. “I told Octavia I wasn’t coming,” she settles on, which still doesn’t answer him.

“She wasn’t pissed?”

Apparently that’s enough to break her out of whatever nerves, because she’s rolling her eyes yet again at him. “Not when I told her I was skipping to stay home with you.”

“What?”

Clarke settles into the couch, tucking her legs underneath her. “I know how much you love Halloween, and I could tell how much it was bugging you to miss out on all the plans the last few days.” She holds up her hand preemptively, like she knows he was going to try and interrupt her. “So I decided we could have our own Halloween.”

He’s at a loss as to what to say next, which is born both out of overall fatigue and the warm feeling bubbling inside his chest. He _was_ trying to keep how annoyed he was about missing the best parts of the spooky season on the down low, but he’s not surprised Clarke noticed. When he really thinks about it, he’s not really surprised she pulled a stunt like this either. Bellamy hates being taken care of – he’d much rather be the one doing the mother hen-ing, but Clarke is the same way. She understands not wanting to show that sort of vulnerability with anyone else, and it makes it easier to let her do it, to just be happy she decided to spend her evening with him.

Especially when it’s the coolest blanket fort he’s ever seen and Hocus Pocus is already queued up on the TV. She throws a Hershey Bar at him and grins. “You good, Bellamy?”

Despite knowing this is everything he could have wanted during a sick Halloween year, she still checks in. He’d lie about how he was feeling to other people, but he can’t lie to Clarke – not that he wants to. Not that he even has anything to lie about right now.

“Happy Halloween, Clarke,” he replies, which easily translates into a thank you.

She understands, of course. It doesn’t stop her from throwing another piece of candy at him. “Get ready for the Sanderson Sisters.”

By the time the Others gets started, Clarke has joined him under the blanket and keeps ducking her head towards him to hide her face. She loves scary movies, but doesn’t always handle them well – not that he’s about to complain about her being pressed against his side, save for the fact that he doesn’t want her to end up sick too. When he points that out, because again: no filter, she just pats his shoulder. “It’s worth the risk.”

He doesn’t know if she means to help with the jumpscares or because she wants to be that close.

There’s a pause, to which she says quietly, “Both,” and Bellamy realizes he may have spoken out loud. “I can move, if you want,” she adds on, even quieter.

“It’s okay,” he says, and he tugs her in even closer.

The next thing he knows, he’s waking up on her shoulder, and she’s munching on more candy while some cartoon plays in the background. She notices him stirring and looks over with a smile. “I couldn’t finish the Others without company, but I was too freaked out to move and switch it out.”

“Sorry,” he mumbles, still not quite awake. He doesn’t move either, because Clarke is comfortable, and she’s running her hands through his hair with her free hand. This is the most affectionate she’s ever been with him, and while he hates being sick, he’s going to miss this when he’s feeling better.

“Stop apologizing,” she chastises mildly, which leads him to believe he’s apologized way more than he remembers. “I’m here because I want to be, dumbass.”

“I know.”

She looks down at him, looks like she’s battling with herself for a moment, then leans down to press a kiss to his forehead. “If I do get sick, I’m expecting the same treatment.”

“I do know all the best November movies.”

Clarke laughs, and it’s the best sound, one that gets him to just burrow in closer against her before he processes what he’s doing, and there’s no time after either, because he just falls asleep again.

When he wakes up again, the TV is off, and from the light fighting through the blankets, Bellamy knows it’s no longer nighttime, but he also knows Clarke is still on the couch with him. They’re tangled together in a pile of limbs, and Bellamy spares a moment to feel guilty that he’s stolen her usual bed, before noticing how much he’s holding on to her inside their little fort.

His head feels clearer than it has in days and he’s suddenly implicitly aware of how much he loves her. And while he’s known that for a while, it’s the exact kind of love that seems to have shifted without him noticing.

_I love you_ , he thinks, because he does, and he snuggles in closer as if to reaffirm himself; he’s awake but not fully, and he figures that’s a good enough excuse.

“I love you too,” she mumbles, pressing in too, and he realizes he’s spoken aloud. He freezes, and so does she.

“Uh.”

Clarke pulls back, cheeks red. “Sorry, was I not supposed to reply to that?”

“No, I just – thought you were sleeping. And I didn’t think I said it outside my head.”

“Did you mean it?” she asks quietly.

There’s one moment of pause before he’s smiling. “Yeah,” he says, and he leans up to kiss her without another word.

Clarke responds instantly and eagerly, but it doesn’t last very long. She pulls herself back and makes a face. “Listen, normally morning breath is fine but – I don’t want your cold.”

Bellamy lets out a laugh and burrows up against her. “That’s fair. If it helps, I do feel much better today. Must be all those Halloween movies.”

“So what you’re suggesting is we should just keep watching creepy movies till I’m ready to kiss you again?”

“You said it, not me,” he grins, and then coughs, turning his head so he doesn’t do so in her face. He is the epitome of charm.

“You’re a nerd. But we do have to finish the Others.”

“It’s a pretty good November 1st movie.”

Clarke beams at him. He wriggles around to get more comfortable with her, now that he can without preamble, and her arm slips over him to keep him there. It’s as new as it is familiar, because they’ve never quite shied away from affection, but the intent is so much more now. It’s as natural as they’ve always progressed.

All things considered, despite being sick and still in the dark on Raven’s costume, it might be one of the best Halloweens he’s ever had.

**Author's Note:**

> prompts like this tend to have caregiver bellamy to a sick clarke but i wanted to reverse it bc clarke loves bellamy too ok


End file.
